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  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER 1 Waiting for Someone

  CHAPTER 2 Common Heartbreak

  CHAPTER 3 Mutual Respect

  CHAPTER 4 Mates

  CHAPTER 5 Dreams

  CHAPTER 6 Sacred Land

  CHAPTER 7 Spiritual Warnings

  CHAPTER 8 Finding Traps

  CHAPTER 9 Puzzles

  CHAPTER 10 The Regime

  CHAPTER 11 Two Levers

  CHAPTER 1

  WAITING FOR SOMEONE

  The sun was high in the noon sky, its beams assaulting the dry lands below.

  It had been weeks since the earth saw rain.

  Aldred looked up at the heavens, scanning for any sign of rain clouds. Nothing. There was nothing. Nothing but a never-ending blue sky that stretched into the horizon. It didn’t seem like there was any mercy to be had for him today.

  He sighed, his red hair hanging limp from sweat. He hated it. He hated the heat. Hated this dry hell that he’d been sent to. The archaeologist closed his eyes, imagining his room at the inn. There would have been a cool breeze that blew through the open window this time of day. Tamworth was the perfect city. Weather-wise, that was. Aldred hated the people. Then again, the people hated him as well.

  Another sigh escaped his lips; this time a chuckle accompanied it. He didn’t know why he was laughing. Perhaps he was going mad. Did the heat get to him? No, no, it wasn’t a manic laugh. It was a bitter one. A laugh that only a man filled with regret owned.

  It was a laugh that the man was familiar with. He’d had that laugh all his life. It was the laugh his father had as well.

  Shaking the distant memory of childhood from his mind, he scanned his surroundings. His little campsite was nothing more than a makeshift canopy of leaves, just big enough for him to sleep under. He was expecting rain as the clouds followed him from the North on his travels. Alas, the clouds saw where he was headed, and decided not to follow him all the way. There was the skeleton of a fire that fizzled out long before morning came. He didn’t need the fire for heat, it was only to cook on and to boil his water for the crushed coffee beans he liked to drink for breakfast. It wasn’t healthy. The innkeeper in Tamworth told him as much multiple times, but he didn’t really care. Dying by coffee sounded like a good death to him. At least he’d die by something he loved. Tucked under the canopy were his belongings: a knapsack, a bedroll, a set of extra clothes, and a sword made from the finest steel in the Eastern continent. His knapsack was filled with bread and cheese—enough to keep him going for a while longer. He’d nearly starved on the road far too many times not to bring an abundance of food.

  There was a little stream to the North that he had to cross on his journey from Tamworth. He could hear it in the distance. It was weak and small. He needed only to step over the stream. It wasn’t large enough to even get his boots wet, never mind wade through.

  The High Regime had told him of a river that needed crossing. The official that briefed him on the quest even pointed it out on a map. Aldred snorted. What a joke.

  Finishing his scan of his surroundings, ignoring the towering buildings half-hidden with moss and vines that he was tasked to investigate but hadn’t even set a foot in, he found that his promised partner still hadn’t shown up.

  A part of the same brief that warned him about the mighty river he had to cross was that he would work with someone else to examine the ruins. It was with another government of sorts. At first, it was strange to Aldred. Why not survey the outpost alone? But there was a truce with this outpost, the official said in his brief. Even though Dragon Ruins usually held magical items, these ruins did not. No items were sensed around here and thus it was agreed that the two governments would work together to find the secrets this place held.

  It didn’t look like Dragon Ruins, but Aldred didn’t argue. Coin was coin, even if he did have to survey ruins that might have only been an abandoned village.

  His partner was supposed to arrive a day ago. Was the information as wrong as it was regarding the damned stream? Aldred wouldn’t have been surprised. There was more organization in a brothel than the High Regime itself. In the lower ranks, at least. The actual higher-ups of the Regime didn’t bother with the lesser folk. Not unless it was for their benefit. Each and every one of Aldred’s quests so far was not beneficial for the coin purses or pride of the High Regime, because every single one of those quests turned out to be another disappointment.

  It was like that with every adventure he’d gone on in the past couple of years, though. At least now he was getting paid to come home empty-handed. Before the High Regime employed the archaeologist, he was nothing more than a homeless man, fancying himself an adventurer. He never found anything worthwhile, and that meant he never found anything worthwhile to sell either. At least now he had coin to spare. Still, it would have been nice to get at least one successful job. He knew that the High Regime was getting tired of the excuses and lack of results. This could very well be his last quest. And then what?

  Then nothing, he thought. Then he’d go back to doing the only thing he knew how to … Steal and cheat his dinner onto the table.

  This was his big break. The evidence looked promising, but damn … Without his companion, he couldn’t even enter the ancient outpost. It was a part of his contract. He had to wait. No matter how tempting it was to sneak a peek. He knew that the High Regime would find out, and then he was a dead man.

  Aldred sighed once more, this time not because of the heat, but because he knew that he’d have to wait another day for his companion to arrive at the meetup point, the large, gaping gate that led into the ruins. Another day in the heat, another night on the ground, another trip to the stupid stream where he’d have to fill his waterskin.

  Deciding that he was better off filling the waterskin sooner rather than later, he strode toward the stream, his waterskin strapped to his side. He left his sword at the campsite along with the rest of his belongings. Carrying the weight of everything in this heat … He was not going to survive it. If something was going to kill him, at least he’d be rid of the spiteful sun.
r />   He knelt down, looking at his face in his water.

  He was a handsome man, even if he did say so himself. It was no wonder the ladies swooned as he passed. If he had been born into nobility, he would have made a fine lord. However, poverty had taken a toll on him and his blue eyes were circled with worry. His strong jaw was bruised from a tavern brawl he’d been in a couple of nights before. He couldn’t remember if he started the brawl or not, but he sure as hell knew that he ended it. His opponent got in a few cheap shots, though.

  Aldred looked older than the mid-twenties bachelor that he was. He had tired eyes and grey hairs that infested his hair like lice. Grey hair was everywhere, too many for him to pull out.

  Tired of his own reflection, he broke the surface of the water to scoop it into his hands and splash his face. The water was lukewarm. The heat, the merciless heat, warmed the water so much that it didn’t even cool down during the night. The body of water was too small for even a drop of it to be cool. Aldred swore under his breath. He just wanted to get this job over and done with. The few coins that were promised upon delivery were not worth it. It was definitely not worth it.

  Aldred grabbed the waterskin from his side and dipped it into the water, watching the air bubble out of it as water took its place. He’d have to dig a deep-enough hole to store the waterskin so it could cool down. Aldred hoped that he could find a spot in the earth that the heat had not yet penetrated.

  The man found his mind wandering, as he made mental notes of his little campsite and where the best place for the hole would be. He didn’t notice the rustling. Didn’t notice the shift in the birds’ songs or the deathly silence that washed over the bugs and crickets. Not until it was too late. Not until he was on his back in the stream, his waterskin floating away on the weak current.

  His heart was beating in his throat as he stared up at his attacker. No, not an attacker. A beast. A predator. The tiger’s maw was gaping, salivating in the face of his prey.

  One claw was on Aldred’s neck and the other kept his shoulders down. Did this beast get a hold of his companion? Did this creature eat the person he was wishing horrible things on for being so late to the party? A million thoughts rushed through his head. Not one was for his own safety. He didn’t really care about that. He was a selfish bastard, yes, but if he died, he died. There was nothing he could do about it. So he let the thoughts run through his head, knowing that he had absolutely nothing to lose.

  Aldred swore under his breath as the tiger put more weight on his neck. He kept as still as he could. The archaeologist could hardly breathe. His head felt as if it was shrinking and his brain was expanding. His skull felt too small for everything it had to hold.

  He knew that fighting the tiger would be fatal. Any predator was stronger than a human, especially one of this size and weight. He was most definitely going to lose that fight. This wasn’t just another tavern brawl that he could easily win. No, this was something he didn’t stand a chance against, and for the first time in his life, Aldred knew that he was going to die.

  The beast growled at him—a guttural growl that made every hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

  Then …

  Then he noticed something.

  Something about the beast was not right. Something was off. Something was very, very off.

  A tiger didn’t hold a person down like this. It would have ripped him apart by now.

  Aldred started noticing more and more things about the tiger that were not quite right. It was too tall, and its arms were almost humanoid.

  “Are you Aldred of Tamworth?” the tiger asked. Its voice, much like its growl, was blood-chilling. It was the voice of a killer. Male, definitely male, but not human.

  Aldred’s hands were around the beast’s wrist, trying to get the powerful grip off his neck. The beast, to Aldred’s surprise, lifted his claw. Blood came rushing back to Aldred’s head and his stomach turned. He’d never vomited, not unless it was from bad ale at the tavern. This was a different sort of sickness that he was not used to. He didn’t like it. He didn’t like it one bit.

  The beast gave a soft, warning growl before it spoke again. “Are you”—his voice was lower this time, laced with a predator’s intent—“Aldred of Tamworth?”

  Aldred only realized then what the beast was asking. With the air cut off from his brain, the question didn’t register the first time.

  “I am, indeed,” Aldred said, his voice a little rough. “Who are you to know my name?”

  The tiger seemed to sigh, annoyed by the answer. As if the name had some sort of significance and it meant the tiger couldn’t kill him. Was it the name Aldred’s companion uttered when the tiger ripped him to shreds? Was this tiger sent by one of the many people that Aldred had cheated out of coins?

  The tiger pushed himself off of Aldred, shaking his head and twitching his whiskers. Aldred got a good look at the being in front of him.

  He was seven feet tall with the body of a man. He did not have the skin of a man, though. Instead, he had fur covering his body from head to toe. He wore shoes, strange enough, as well as pants. He was in all parts human, but he was also in all parts tiger.

  Aldred gulped. He’d never seen any of the beast races in person. Especially not a Táshdóítsoh.

  “My name is Hashkeh Naabah,” the Tash said formally. “I believe you have been awaiting my arrival.”

  CHAPTER 2

  COMMON HEARTBREAK

  Hashkeh hadn’t always needed to be so intimidating.

  Earlier in the day, the tiger sidestepped some overgrown weeds, watching as critters skittered away when his foot threatened to squash them. The tiger was one of the beast races. Humanoid in a sense. In appearance, at least. Mentally and physically, the tiger overpowered any human. Whether it was with wit, knowledge, or strength, the tiger was a superior being. It was a shame that humans had the upper hand when it came to cheating. They cheated to get what they wanted, and the sad part was that the beast races allowed it. They were a peaceful people among themselves. Sure, the tigers and the wolves didn’t get along, but they still kept the peace. They did not let race get in the way of everyone’s well-being.

  No, they were not like humans at all.

  Hashkeh swore under his breath when a branch nicked his cheek. It bypassed his fur and dug into his skin. It was a shallow cut, but a cut nonetheless. It was an inconvenience.

  There was a crack of a stick behind him, and the Tash stopped mid-step, his ears twitching with attention. Someone was following him. Someone or something?

  He sniffed the air, and his lip curled upwards.

  The scent was familiar. A scent he grew up with.

  The scent of home.

  “What are you doing here, Hasaya?” he asked with a growl. He waited for her to show herself. Waited for her to step out of the treeline. He had taught her well. She knew how to hide, how to camouflage her scent.

  The figure never came out from behind the trees. Instead, there was a sudden crash of weight on top of the tiger, and he crashed to the leafy ground below.

  The pair rolled over a few times, overpowering each other one after the other.

  But, as always, Hashkeh had the upper hand, and he pushed Hasaya to the ground. He looked at her, at her beautiful face that had a scar across her nose. Another Tash had injured her with his claws in a bar fight. She was still beautiful, though, despite the scar. Or perhaps she was beautiful because of it. Hashkeh couldn’t quite decide.

  “I’ll ask you again,” he said and dug his claws into her wrists. “What are you doing here?”

  “You disappeared in the dead of night and never came back. I had to find you and make sure that you were okay.”

  “I am a grownup,” Hashkeh retorted with a sigh, letting go of Hasaya’s hands.

  “Oh, get over yourself, Hashkeh. You are nothing but a big lump with claws. You would
n’t hurt a fly.”

  “No, because flies are good for the earth. Any other danger I might face, not so much. I can kill and skin any creature that attacks me within a minute.”

  Hasaya rolled her eyes, her whiskers twitching as she sniffed the air. “I have followed you for miles and you never caught on to my scent once. You didn’t look behind you. You didn’t even hear the footsteps.”

  “I am not Yeitso,” Hashkeh growled, knowing all too well that she was right. He was too far in his own thoughts. He was thinking about the past, about the future. He was thinking about his mission, and he was thinking about Hasaya.

  Hurt flashed in Hasaya’s eyes but was gone in an instant. She hid her hurt well, but not well enough for Hashkeh to miss it. He knew her far too well. He knew every tick, every twitch, every expression.

  “No, you are not your brother,” she said with a little tremble in her voice. “He would never leave without telling me where he was going.”

  Hashkeh smiled sadly. That didn’t save him from getting murdered in cold blood on his way to the human lands for a treaty that needed signing. “Yeitso was your husband. I am your brother-in-law. I do not owe you anything.”

  Hasaya got up and dusted the dirt from her pants. She looked at him, then turned around to face the other direction. Hiding her face from him. Was she crying? Haskeh didn’t know. He didn’t know why he even cared.

  “You are the only thing I have left that still reminds me of him. His scent has faded, his presence no longer lingers. I don’t want him to disappear. I want to remember him. And you are the only way that I can do that. I look at you and I see him. The shade of your fur, and the green flecks in your golden eyes. Brothers. Blood. Friends.”

  Hashkeh smiled and strolled over to Hasaya. “He will always be here, Hasaya. If not physically, then in our hearts.”

  “I just can’t lose anyone else that I care about. Please tell me when you are leaving in the future. My heart cannot bear the strain of wondering.”